Fernandes' Eleven
by DoomKnight1of24
Summary: AU Very loosely based on the movie Ocean's Eleven. Eventual GerardXErza. Probably with irregular updates. Sho's playing a big part in this one, too.  CHAPTER 4 UP NOW! Gerard and Sho are getting more than they bargained for.
1. A man, his quest, his promise

**AN:** _Hi, peeps. This is my second story, and it's going to be a pretty long one… I think. I started it actually before my first one, "Can Talk". The story itself is very loosely based on the movie "Ocean's Eleven", and it was an idea I had about a year ago…_

_I'm currently having a little writer's block with that one, so I'll release new chapter's as the whole thing goes along…_

_Whatever…_

_Enjoy my latest attempt at writing._

_PS: I had a thorough look at all the chapters I've written so far, and smoothed it out a bit, you know, cut away the fat, improved the flow. I hope it's better now._

_Disclaimer: I don't own the Manga or the Anime Fairy Tail or the movie Ocean's Eleven._

* * *

_"Please state your name and last name for the record."  
_-"Gerard Fernandes."  
-_"You confirm that you are participating in this project completely out of your free will, and are under no other outer influence, pressure, etc?  
_-"I do."  
-_"So…how did you end up where you are now?"  
_-"That's…not a question that is answered easily…"

Gerard had sat in jail more than once, he was slightly ashamed to admit. Sometimes he remembered his first time there, during which he had spent much time fantasizing about the day of his release. He had imagined it to be on a sunny, peaceful day, as if nature would celebrate his freedom along with him. Or, when he happened to be in a more dramatic mood, on a cold, dark night, preferably with a thunderstorm to add a nice, dramatic, touch.

So he had of course been a little disappointed when he had seen the scenery of the prison's parking place that day: grey, ordinary, a bit cool perhaps, but not cold, and no thunderstorm to be seen. The friend he had spoken to on the phone two hours ago had been waiting already, and though he had greeted him very enthusiastically, he had hardly been a welcome committee.

So, since he was already experienced in the not-so-tearful-and-dramatic way of being reunited with the world, he was hardly surprised by the casualness of the scenery. The weather was warm for once, but it was cloudy, and he could already taste the rain in the air. He quickly scanned the parking place and spotted a heavy-set, middle-aged man, leaning on a dark blue volkswagen, looking bored. When Gerard approached him, he looked up.

"I believe you are waiting for me. My name is Gerard Fernandes, I spoke to Network about an hour ago." The man just nodded, gave him the keys, and got in the car parking next to the volkswagen, in which a younger man sitting on the driver's seat was already turning on the engine. Then they were gone, without ever saying a word.  
Gerard was not surprised. Network's employees always had this strange air of casualness around them, and never were very talkative. But they didn't have to be. Ned W. Oakland was maybe not the biggest dealer in 'The Business', as Gerard liked to call the profession of illegal redistribution of property, meaning stealing, but everyone knew that Network was certainly the biggest jack-of-the-trade you could find in it, and he only employed professionals. He dealt with a good deal of thieving good, true, but his main line of business was the trade in the things that made 'the business' the business: information, and, more importantly, favors. He knew everybody with had a reputation, but most people made the mistake of saying the same thing and not thinking it a big stunt, since 'The Business' was a lot smaller than outsiders thought it to be…

Which was true. In 'The Business', all active master thieves knew each other. But Network also had connections to the 'Outer Ring', meaning engineers, other information brokers and dealers that bought the fruits of the thieves' labour. If you were in 'The Business', you went to Network if you needed something. If he didn't have it, he knew at least two guys that had it, and he could give you direct advise concerning their trustworthiness.

Gerard knew him from his earlier days, when Network still had been a small dealer with big visions. Back then, he had helped him here and there a little, had sold his goods a little cheaper to him when times had been good. Since then, Network sometimes granted Gerard the odd free favor, but not too often. It was sort of a breach of etiquette to do favors without any kind of payment in 'The Business', even if it was between friends, as it was between Network and Gerard.

That didn't stop Gerard from reaching over to extract a small stack of papers and a CD from the glove compartment, once he had seated himself in the driver's seat. He had to smile while he threw a short look at it. _Old Masterpieces from the 80's and everything else you might like_ was written on the label. That was another thing that made Network Gerard's favorite business partner: He always threw in something extra. "Well, let's see if you are still as good at your thing as you were back then, you old raccoon." Gerard muttered, while he put the CD aside and finally concentrated his attention on the stack of paper.

Eight hours and a long car drive later, Gerard was standing outside the "Monte Plata", one of the bigger casinos in Khatan City, the Capital of Khatanor, a neighboring kingdom to Fiore. Khatanor was known for its various forms of entertainment, and Khatan City was the country's prime example in that aspect: the city housed a number of forty-six casinos, not counting the several illegal poker rounds, various places of entertainment, such as theaters, horse races and many more, and any number of restaurants, hotels and inns.

Gerard knew it well. He had once stolen a complete set of old ducal jewelry from a museum there, six years ago. It had been a tricky job, and he had been forced to take some considerable risk in order to complete it, but the reward had been more than worth it. Of course, he only had little left of the money he had gotten for the stones from Network, but that was okay. It was how you did it in 'The Business'. You didn't save the money, since you knew just all too well how easily you could be relieved of it. You either spent it and then made some more, so you could spend it again, or invested it somewhere if you had to lie low. But you never just stopped after one particularly lucrative job. Because you soon found out that it wasn't the money that kept you on the dark side of law. The money was a nice bonus, of course, but the important thing was the thrill of the forbidden, of taking the risk. The feeling of being a wolf in a world of sheep.

And you often developed expensive habits. Habits that you couldn't shake off just like that, and that required the kind of money that couldn't be made with honest work. Which was the main reason for Gerard being here. The person he was looking for had always been drawn to casino's neon lights like a moth.

Gerard entered and just stood in the casinos main hall with closed eyes to take it all in: the loud buzzing atmosphere, the lights, the occasional scream of frustration…He had to fight a grin while he opened his eyes again. It had been too long.

After sitting down at the bar, tucked away in a corner of the hall, he had a first real look around. So far nothing out of the ordinary. The security staff was lurking around subtly between rows and rows of one-armed bandits and small islands of black-jack and poker tables. There was a small television screen located behind the counter on an upper shelf, showing some sort of news program. The anchorman, a middle-aged man with greying hair around the temples, was rambling on about some sort of event, involving some sort of foreign royalty. Gerard was just about to turn his attention back to the casino hall, when..

_"…demolition is planned to take place in two weeks." _Gerard whirled around to face the TV-screen, as the camera went into a long shot of a grand facade, over and over decorated with images of unicorns, elves, sprights and other mythical creatures._ " As Tiran Regemunte," _there was a zoom-in on a dark haired man with eerily bright eyes and a benevolent smile standing in a group together with other people,_ "new owner of of the'Oberon's Palace' and sole owner of another three Casinos on the Isle of Ventura, the 'La Serenissima', the 'Slumlord's' and the 'Island Queen', already promised the public four days ago for the new facility to be even grander than the old one. Makarov, former owner of the facility,"_ the camera zoomed out until a very small, elderly man with striking features became visible, _"expresses his enthusiasm and is looking forward to see his former workplace in new glory."_

Gerard failed to fight a snort at this not-so-subtle PR-gag. Makarov was scowling deeply and looked anything abut happy. Gerard was just about to turn around to observe the casino hall, as another person joined the group on the screen.

Gerard froze. He kept staring at the TV, his face completely impassive. He continued doing so until the show switched back to the anchorman, and turned away to the bartender as the anchorman began to ramble about the stock-markets and the recent increase of the Fiorin Jewel.

_Aaaaand… back to business._ Gerard waited until the bartender had brought him his order, made a short scan of the personnel and got up from his seat to approach a Blackjack table. "Free here?" he greeted the two other people sitting at the table. One of them was an elderly man with retreating hair, wrinkled suit and a somewhat urgent air about him. A rookie. Gerard was good at sizing people up, a skill that had proven useful in his profession.

The other person was the compete opposite. Long dreadlocks, colorful clothing, dark shades, piercings in nose, ears and eyebrows, and obviously a gambling-expert, despite his young, even boyish appearance.

The younger of the two nodded, giving Gerard a curious, but not unfriendly, look. The older one barely took notice of him.

"'S looking good today" Gerard asked, but he was not actually paying any attention to his neighbors' reactions. Instead he regarded the dealer, who had been turning his back to the players and was now turning around as he heard Gerard's voice.

His most obvious feature was his incredibly deep tan and sun-bleached hair. He was a bit smaller than Gerard, and was looking at him with an expression void of any emotion. Then a slow grin started to spread over his face and he laughed a laugh that could only be described as 'provocative'. "Suddenly it does."

* * *

One and a half hours later, Gerard stepped out of the casino's backdoor. Here, behind all the glamour and the neon, the small alley in which he stood looked grey and miserable. The atmosphere awoke a distant memory: _waking up one morning, with a nasty hangover, dark clouds suffocating the sky, the bed beside him cold and empty…_

"Well, looky here," a voice behind him snapped him out of his depressing memories. "Here to enjoy some good old mortal pleasures after your quality-time with Brother Lawful, aren'tcha?"

"Nice seeing you, too, Sho." Gerard said as he turned around. Now that Sho had changed out of his working uniform, he looked exactly like Gerard remembered him: the impish grin and the half-long black coat, a fancy he had gotten from Gerard, were still his trademark features.  
"Come on, I know a pub near here. The owner is an… acquaintance of mine."

He led Gerard to a small bar in the style of the 70's. Once they had ordered their drinks, they just sat there for a moment in silence, nursing their drinks.

Sho broke the silence first. "You look good. Healthy. You been working out?" Gerard grinned half-heartedly. "I happened to have a free minute every now and then…" That brought a grin to Sho's face as well. "You're out and about rather early. I thought your sentence was five years?" Gerard nodded. "Yeah, they let me out early because they thought I was just _such_ a nice fellow. Can't say that it was always a pleasant stay, but one year out early is one year out early. So they let me out after I promised to be a nice, good boy." Sho leaned back, grinning impishly. "So, what are you planning now? You're not the kind of guy to come by here just to say 'Hello' to an old buddy." Gerard's expression turned serious. _No sense in beating around the bush._ "Right. There's a job. It's difficult, and I personally know of no one who ever managed to successfully pull it off. But the reward will be many times worth the effort." Gerard leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "We are going to rob a casino." He leaned back quickly, as his friend began to choke on his drink and spray his drink over the table. Finally, Sho looked up. "You serious?" he croaked. "Dude, prison must seriously have messed you up. There's a reason why there is no record anywhere of a successful job like this. That's because there ain't. That's because everyone who tried this before was a total nut job. That's because all the sane guys saw that the risks behind this kinda thing are too high."

"Chill. I heard the stories about these guys, too. None of them were professionals…" - "Well, guess why!" Gerard furrowed his brows. He couldn't remember a time when Sho had been this emotional. "What's wrong with you? You weren't so easily upset before." - "…Sorry." Sho fell together almost immediately. "Things have been… bad, to say the least, since Shimon's death…" His voice trailed off. Gerard suppressed a grimace.

Shimon had been an old colleague and close personal friend of him. A couple of years back, the three of them had relieved an eccentric rich millionaire, who had made his money officially with oil, and actually with weapons in foreign lands, of a few of his millions and a couple of very valuable old plundered artifacts. Somehow he had found them, and before they could react it had been too late for Shimon: Gerard and Sho had found him in his apartment, beaten and with a hole in his head. Gerard had called Network, who knew experts, who in turn "knew how to take care of this kind of mess". Gerard normally avoided inflicting unnecessary harm on others, and had always thought that wetwork was beneath him, but there were exceptions. Shimon had been dating a single mother with four children, and had been planning to marry her. Gerard had met them, once when Shimon had introduced him to them, and once at the funeral. He had stumbled something along the lines of "My condolences", and had rushed off. He had felt too ashamed. The children had called Shimon "Dad".

"Anyway," Sho's voice cut through the mist of Gerard's memories. "You want to rob a casino?" Gerard grinned. "Sorry, did I say one? I meant to say three." Sho choked on his drink again. Once he had managed to collect himself, he shot Gerard an incredulous look. "What? How do you want to pull _that_ one off?" Gerard's grin widened. "Let me explain…"

**AN:**_ Fun fact: there actually is a Ventura Island, in California somewhere, I think (I absolutely suck at geography). I simply choose the name because ventura is spanish and means 'luck', which seemed fitting. I hope I didn't offend anyone._


	2. Getting the Show on the Road

_AN: First of all, I want to thank everyone for their heartwarming reviews. This chapter was now uploaded a little earlier, since I had a little head start on this one. Also, the Rating's changed to T, since I realized that swearing/street language becomes more frequent in this chapter._

Barely one hour later, Sho ordered them another round. As they were waiting for their drinks, Sho let out a deep sigh. "That plan is nuts. And whoever will be prepared to help us must be nuts, too, because there's _no way _we can manage that one without help." Gerard fought a grin. He hadn't missed that Sho had been talking of "us" and "we". "How many do you think?" Sho crossed his arms and leaned back. "Don't know. At least half a dozen guys or so. We need at least one Geek, one Handyman, maybe two, an Odd One, and a good Cat. And one or two Ironmen, to be sure. And a _good_ preacher man. But even that won't do, because we need someone who knows the scene. We'll also need someone to sponsor us, because this kind of job demands not just brain, or brawn but also the necessary green. And the last two guys should preferably be one and the same." Gerard waved it off. "Don't worry, I know just the guy. We can worry about the rest later. But we should get going. It's getting late." They got up. Sho left money on the table. "Got anywhere to sleep?" he asked. Gerard grinned. "'Course. Your place." Sho lifted a mocking eyebrow. "But you know, whoever we're going to meet, he will still think we're-"

"-Lunatics! The both of you!"

Sixteen hours after they had left the pub, Gerard and Sho sat in a tastefully decorated salon, in front of their potential sponsor. He was a not very tall, balding and currently extremely irritated man. And he was also Makarov, the man Gerard had seen in the news just the day before.

Sho tried to be the mediator. "Look, I know it's been rough for ya recently, but that's no reason to…" - "Shut up!" Makarov snapped. "I respect you for your abilities, and don't think I have forgotten the job you did for me in Khatanor, but I don't give a shit about your faked pity!" Sho scowled, and Gerard could tell that his friend was right before saying something _really_ hurtful, so he intervened. "It's never been tried before."

Makarov gave a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, it's been tried befo-" Gerard interrupted him with a wave. "I know the stories. What I'm saying is: there has never been anyone with a real_ plan_ trying to crack this one. All these stories are grab-and-run-jobs, inspired by, mostly, alcohol. Everyone else has been just too chicken-shit to give it a try. Come on. If anything goes wrong, _you _will have the greatest possibility of getting off the hook. And _you_ should know better than anyone that the job's worth the risk."

Makarov had listened to Gerard, scowling at the beginning, but now he was grinning. Though without any humor. "Sorry, kiddos, but I still have enough money to have better retirement than most people." And with that, he turned away from them.

Sho's scowl deepened. "So that's it? You're giv-" But Gerard silenced him quickly. Grinning, he threw Sho a wink and stood up. "Well, too bad, that's sad, et cetera. Come, Sho. Perhaps Nework will spill us a name."

They were already halfway out of door, and Gerard was counting under his breath, as Makarov, without turning around, called after them. "Just out of curiosity, which casinos did you have in mind?" Sho, now sporting his famous impish grin again, looked at Gerard with faked uncertainty. "I don't know… Perhaps the '_Slumlord's_', ridiculous name, really, then maybe the '_Island_ _Queen_', and as a finisher, I don't know, perhaps the 'La Serenissima'. Always had a problem with them long, foreign words."

Makarov had turned around at those words, and the look on his was had become incredulous. "These casinos… are Tiran Regemunte's casinos…" He looked between Sho and Gerard. "Come on, guys,… You don't actually intend to rob Tiran Regemunte, right, guys?" The mixture of worry and amusement on Makaro's face was drained of the latter, as he turned to face them fully now. "I was wrong. You aren't just crazy, you guys are completely out of your _minds_! Even if you pull this job off, he'll come after you! He has a reputation in 'The Business', meaning that everyone else to agree on this job will be just as insane as you." Makarov turned his back to them, as he stalked over to the a strangely old-fashioned-looking cupboard which had been labeled 'Liquor_f_'. After rummaging around in it for a while, he turned around with a three glasses, half filled with a clear brown liquid. He handed two of them to Sho and Gerard, shot them a sour look, said "Cheers!", and downed the content's of his glass immediaty. After that, he looked up and said "So, who else?"

"We should get the locksmith first. I now one that- humph….gah!" Gerard sat in his chair for a moment gasping for air. He had just taken a gulp of too hot coffee and was now feeling how the scalding liquid ran dawn his throat. It had been two days since the meeting with Makarov, in which Gerard had revised the plan and ascertained a rough financial frame for the operation. Now they were having breakfast at small B&B at the side of the road. A cheap one.

"Bwhy?" Sho managed to mumble around his hotdog. Gerard looked at him, still grimacing from the feeling of having your own private volcano inside your stomach "Dude, it's a break-in. Into a moeny-keeping facility. There's bound to be a vault door there somewhere, and then we'll need a locksmith." In 'The Business', a locksmith was an explosives expert.

Sho chewed for a long time, before he swallowed and said: "No, I mean why the locksmith first." He took another huge bite. "'Cause I think we can strike a good deal with this one. I've done a couple of jobs with him already. Knows his stuff. Good to work with, too. Come on, we're meeting him in an hour." They rose from their seats and went to Gerard's volkswagen. Sho mumbled something incomprehensible. "Speak up. And stop killing that hotdog before it kills you, you moron." Gerard grinned. Sho swallowed a huge portion hotdog, and coughed a couple of times. "I said: And what's the name of this genius." he croaked as he finally got his bearings again. "Do I know him?" Gerard shrugged. "Dunno. You know a guy called Natsu Dragneel? Sorta spunky guy, salmon-coloured hair, hot temper?" Sho shook his head. "You met him on a job or something?"

Gerard laughed as he sat down in the driver's seat. "No, on a New Years Eve-Party. Brought homemade crackers. Made with Napalm." Now Sho grinned, too. "Sounds like our sort of guy. And that was all you needed to know to recognize him?" Gerard shook his head. "Nah, I realized it later, when a… friend introduced us. And he smelled of gunpowder all over." Sho shot him an incredulous look. "Gunpowder?" Gerard nodded as he started the car-engine and carefully steered the car off the parking slot. "It's a tick of his. He uses only homemade devices, and then normally the simple stuff: dynamite, napalm, et cetera. He argues that it makes the whole thing harder to trace, but I think he just likes things to go off with a bang." Sho snorted. "Yeah, right. Good deal, huh?" Gerard gave him a serious look. "It's not like that's the _only_ thing he does. He knows the fine craft, too. Besides, we get a good Catman inclusively to a good locksmith. I'd call that a good deal." His friend gave him an uncomprehending look. "What the-… Now where does the cat come from." A cat, or Catman, was the kind of person you would have crawling through a room full of lasers. Meaning an acrobat.

"I didn't really understand it myself," Gerard admitted. "but apparently Natsu has an adoptive little brother or something, called Happy. I've never seen him in action myself, but Network gave me only positive feedback when I asked about him. Ah, looks like this is the place."

They had arrived in front of what looked like…Gerard thought it had perhaps once been a spruce old mansion, but now the black hulk of a house had long since lost the fight to the scrub, that seemed to choke the house with black-greenish tendrils of half-rotten….well, scrub. "That brings back memories, doesn't it?" Sho asked as he got out of the car. "If this isn't the Tower of Para-shite's closest relative, then I'm not a damn liar. Or what do you say?" Gerard just nodded, though he secretly disagreed with Sho. 'Tower of Paradise', had been the most dreadful place in Gerard's childhood. Since it hadn't been a state-founded orphanage, but a private one, there were next to no inspection's by goverment-officials, which meant that the conditions there degenerated more and more. Gerard liked to think that that place had been the reason why he had fitted in so easily when he had first been in prison. His whole childhood had been prison-time.

On the front door was a sign. 'KeAP ouT' it read. Sho let out a snort. "Professional? I don't know…" He lifted his hand and knocked. They waited for some time.

A long time.

…

_Long_ time.

Gerard was just a bit faster than his friend, "Try and see if it's locked." Sho rolled his eyes, but he tried the handle experimentally. It broke off. They both looked at it like something not from this world. "Sorry to shatter your world, buddy, but either Network is making a really bad joke here, or he's got wrong info." His partner just stuttered. "I-I-I have now idea… He never-" - "I wouldn't go in there if I were you… Except if you plan on crawling out of this shit hole as a pancake." a voice cut him off. Sho and Gerard whirled around.

The first thing they noted about the newcomer was his enough, it was bright pink, and shone in the afternoon-gloom like a second sunset.

"Dude, why do you color your hair like that? You a clown or something?" Sho blurted out, before he even realized it. The stranger just gave him a wry look. "Gerard, who's the funny guy? And, by the way, you should tell his mother that I'm sorry, too." Sho just stood there, dumb-founded. Then he retorted angrily "At least I'm not-" - "No fighting, girls." Gerard interrupted him. "Drop the scowls, guys. Sho, the clown is Natsu. Natsu, the funny guy is Sho. I told you about him." The situation calmed almost immediately. Both squabblers hemmed and hawed, and seemed a little ashamed of their outbreak now. "Sho, huh? You've got quite the reputation, after all what I heard." Sho bowed. "I'm doing my best."

Apparently, the reason for the crappy front door was that it was not the actual entrance to the actual living-area. "The complete lower floor is build with wooden parquet flooring. Of course, through years of neglect and the odd broken water pipe, it's by now probably a rotting pile of very good fertilizer," the man called Natsu explained to his guest as he led them around the house. "The upper floors are okay, though. Just had to haul out some old carpets, which were already beyond every help. Burnt the shit in the backyard somewhere." At this moment, the trio finally arrived at the back of the house, which looked considerably better taken care of. There was a seemingly handmade but sturdy staircase that led up to a balcony at the second floor. Incidentally, it was revealed to the two master thieves that Natsu's 'backyard' was a wide, grassy plain with no visible boundaries at all. He could have burnt the entire house without anyone noticing. "Backyard, huh?" Sho commented.

They climbed up the staircase and were let in by Natsu, who led them into what appeared to be the living room. "You guys want anything? Coffee or whatever?" Sho nodded, but Gerard replied with a "No, thanks."

Natsu disappeared to wherever the kitchen, or what he called a kitchen, was located in what he called 'his home' . Which gave his guests the chance to look around. "This guy's probably the biggest character I've ever met." Sho grinned as he examined a dark, poorly-illuminated shelf overladen with what appeared to be rubbish. "Look, all this junk for instance," he reached into the darkness of the shelves and pulled out an old, battered and slightly creepy-looking stuffed bunny-rabbit from its recesses. "These appear to be mementos." Sho looked closer. "He even labeled them! With the date and everything!" Looking up, he shot Gerard an incredulous look. "There's more." Sho put the stuffed animal carefully back on his place. "And there is a system! He arranged the stuff in a freaking system! Souvenirs!" Gerard grinned from one ear to the other. But before he could give a mocking remark, Natsu came back with a steaming jug and some ridiculously huge stoneware-mugs. "Happy should be here soon, too. I woke him up since I figured we were going to talk business now." He spotted Sho standing at the shelf. He set the patchwork-tea-set on a low coffee table in front of a huge, probably antique couch. "Sit down. But I'm warning you: you're drinking this stuff at your own risk. My coffee machine seems to have a life of its own." Sho, who already had a full mug in his hands, set it down again.

After they had sat down, Sho and Gerard on the ancient couch and Natsu on a floor cushion, they sat there for a moment, Natsu drinking coffee, the other two sitting in silence. "Why are you living here, Natsu?" Gerard finally asked. Natsu looked up. "Huh? What are you talking about? This is my home, so I live here." Gerard sighed. "Last time, you told me you were living with this filthy rich girlfriend of yours in her apartment. Did she kick you out?" Natsu scowled. "First of all, just because her father lights his fireplace with jewel-bills, doesn't mean she can does the same. The two are estranged. And right now, she's on a book-tour in Swanya. I just came back because I like the atmosphere here during spring." At this moment, a person appeared in the doorway. All three looked up.

The newcomer was apparently very young. He was not very tall, and so lean that he looked almost malnourished. His face looked tired, and his eyes were framed by dark rings.

Natsu cleared his throat. "Happy, these are-" The newcomer interrupted him. "Is that coffee? _Is that coffee?_" Natsu scowled. "Yeah, but watch out when you-" He was cut off once again as the newcomer - who appeared to be Happy - just reached over the table and didn't even bother to fill a mug with the hot, brown liquid. He just lifted the jug to his lips and _drank_.

Sho let out an impressed whistle after the teen had set down the - now empty - jug. Happy had undergone a complete transformation. The bleary eyes were replaced by a curios look, and his formerly almost oppressively shiftless presence was now bustling with energy. Natsu put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him onto another cushion. "Happy, stop behaving like a brat. Sit down." - "Aye." Natsu turned back to his guests. "Sorry 'bout that." he mumbled embarrassed. "Guys, this is Happy. Happy, these are Gerard and Sho. They have a job for us." Happy shot the duo another curious look. "Let's hear it then." Gerard leaned forward. This was his thing, after all. "Here," he said as he pulled out two plane-tickets and a business card out of the recesses of his coat. "Meet us in Magnolia, Fiore, in two weeks. The adress belongs to Makarov, I'm sure you remember him." Natsu studied the business card closely. "The old man? Sure thing. You going to tell us about this mysterious job there?" Gerard nodded. "Yeah. By then, I will know who else will be in on this as well." Natsu's eyebrows lifted. "You assembling a crew?" Gerard looked at him meaningfully. "Yeah," - "So… this is a big thing you're planning?" Gerard grinned. "Quite."

_AN: Yeah, Happy maybe behaves a little OOC, but hey! He's like nineteen in this story, and during this age you're not exactly building churches and helping the poor. Also, Natsu might appear a little calmer than people might expect him to be, but here, he's a professional and anyway, most people are underestimating him anyway._

_Five crew members already, six more to go. Stay tuned._


	3. Memories

**AN:** _Hi peeps, chapter 3 is finally out now. Sorry about it taking so long, but I realized now that such big project (big for me, that is) is kinda starting to overwhelm me. Well, this one might be a little longer than the first two, and even though I'm not _completely_ happy with it, it will have to do. Hope you enjoy it anyways._

It had been almost exactly thirty-six hours since their meeting with Natsu, and Sho was dead tired. He hadn't slept more than four hours in the last two days, and by now the effects of the last coffee wore off faster and faster. Gerard on the other hand looked completely fine and unruffled. Like always. When he thought about it, Sho mused, then he could actually spot more eccentrics in Gerard's behavior than he would have liked to. For instance, Gerard had always been very secretive. Even when they worked on the plan for the job, he had only fed Sho the most necessary of informations. Sho knew that his friend did not trust people easily. He was almost always uneasy around other people, but hid it behind a complaisant and unaccommodating mask. That and his habit of being a pathological schemer made him a difficult friend and hard to understand. He still had no idea just _why_ Gerard was organizing this what seemed to grow into a completely unprovoked crusade against a dangerous opponent like Tiran Regemunte. Sho had done some digging on _that_ guy himself, and he had not liked what he had found. The man seemed to him like some infernal warlord. According to Sho's sources, young Tiran had emerged from the ghettos of Khatan City like something dark and unholy from a cursed crypt. His star had begun to rise when he managed to unite most of the bigger delinquent-gangs under him and to seize control of almost all underground poker rounds. Once he had found a foothold in High Society, he finally exchanged the dirty rag of the ghetto against the silk suits of the Social Elite and made his poker rounds legal. His social and economical talents and the subtle threat of a massive criminal organization at his beg and call gave him an important edge in not only the business but also 'The Business'. Regemunte was a true Son of the Law's Dark Side. Once a crook, always a crook.

And that was the kind of opponent Gerard had picked this time. Sho threw him a surreptitious look. Just what were his motivations? What was he thinking?

Sho would have been surprised had he known how his friend was currently feeling not very well or composed at all. Gerard was incredibly ashamed. He knew fully well that his oldest friend was doubting him. Guilt was eating at him. He had his own reasons as for why he was unable to reveal the real reason for this utterly unmotivated vendetta against the secret criminal kingpin of Laguna Ángeles.

It wasn't for the money. Admittedly, it was never for _just_ the money, but this was completely different. No, the thing Gerard was after was something so _precious_… and… A memory suddenly hit him: _the feeling of soft hair against his face, it's scent filling his nostrils, eyes the color of dark chocolate…_ He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles whitening. No, it was better if the others, including Sho, knew as little as possible about the _real_ reason behind this job. For everyone.

"Hey, our hotel's over there. You drove past it!" Sho protested, snapping Gerard out of his thoughts. "Sorry…"

The next morning, after a restless eight hours sleep in their cheap hotel beds, Sho was sitting bleary-eyed at a table in the corner of the hotel's restaurant. He was waiting anxiously for Gerard to return from the breakfast buffet with the sweet, brown, unearthly delicious elixir of wakefulness, meaning coffee. His growing dependence on the stuff worried him, but not all too much at the moment. Which was mainly because he rarely worried about things before the first cup of morning-coffee.

"Hope you don't mind croissant." Gerard came up to their table, balancing a tray with two extra-large steaming coffee-mugs and small basket with croissant in front of him. He, of course, looked spick and span. Sho just grunted as reply and reached immediately after his mug as Gerard set down the grinned. "Watch out, this stuff is…" Sho began to sputter and curse as he took his first deep gulp. "…hot." Gerard's grin widened. Sho threw him an irritated look. "_Bit_ late there, buddy." He blew carefully on his coffee and took a croissant. Gerard did the same.

After they had sat there eating for a while, Sho picked up the conversation again. "So, you already have another one? 'Cause we're still a little short on loonies for your suicide squad." Gerard nodded. "If you don't have a better idea, I say we go after either the Trojan or the Handyman." Sho nodded. A Trojan was a computer specialist, and a Handyman a sort of 'field-engineer' who was usually responsible for handling the more complicated equipment. Both would be necessary for the kind of job they were planning.

"I say we go for the handyman first, 'cause I already have an idea. You remember Hibiki?" Sho asked, taking his third croissant. Gerard smiled half-heartedly. "I already thought about him, too, but there's no way to recruit him in time." Sho threw him an uncomprehending look. "Why?" he mumbled around his croissant. "He's on vacation. At a resort." Gerard fabricated the 'Weekly Sorcerer' from last week from his coat and handed it to his friend. "With page twenty-one." Still puzzled, Sho took the magazine from Gerard and flipped it open at page twenty-one. He cursed when he saw it. After studying the page thoroughly, he threw his friend an almost desperate look. "You're sure…? I mean, we're baking quite the cake here… Are you sure that-" - "One hundred percent."

Sho slumped back on his seat and cursed again. An elderly lady, sitting at a neighboring table, threw him an appalled look, which he studiously ignored. After another too large gulp and some coughing, he took another croissant and ate it almost in one bite. Watching his friend murder the breakfast, Gerard began to feel nostalgic. Back then, at the Tower of Paradise, times had always been lean. If you didn't want to go to bed with a rumbling stomach, you had to develop the pack-instinct: eat as fast and much as you could, because you could never know when you managed to shove your way up to the canteen's counter in time next time. He had to smile about his choice of words. Yeah, now that he thought about it, they had been just that: a pack, a pack of scrawny, dirty kids, living like animals, eating when they could, sleeping when they had to, biting and fighting at the smallest signs of hostility… The Tower had carved it's marks onto everyone. Sho, who had always been a tiny blot as a kid, had had to be the one with an empty stomach more often than the others. As a result, his eating habits now were savage, to say the least. Of course, he hadn't been the only to leave that place with scars, both mental and physical.

Shimon, on the other hand, who had been big as a child already, had not had this sort problem. He had been one of the few who had actually known his biological family. Even though he had never talked about them, Gerard had had his own theory, since Shimon had always been very protective of his friends. He had desperately desired the warmth and comfort of a completed, happy family. Gerard had found his suspicions confirmed when he had seen him interacting with his fiancée, just a few weeks before that terrifying evening. He closed his eyes when he tried to block out the rush of memories that came back at him, but to no avail. _The cold sting of the icy rain, the faceless crowd of people around the small grave, a mass of black cloth, and _her_ face, a mask of grief and pain-…_

"I know you're just waiting to gloat about your _incredible_ planning, so out with it. Who's going to replace our ladykiller?" Drudgingly, Gerard found his way back to reality. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Sho rolled his his eyes. "Dude, are you alright? You've been spacing out a _lot_ lately." Gerard waved it off with one hand, mumbling something apologetic. "I was just asking you for the name of our handyman, if you care to come down to our earthly plane for a few moments," Sho said, grinning. His friend gave him a slightly sheepish look. "Right. Sorry." He gathered himself for a moment before continuing. " But you're right, I already have our guy. Name's Gray, Gray Fullbuster. Did two jobs with him, if I remember correctly. Yeah, one robbery in Port Town, and the con at the Mardillo-auction. Yup, pretty sure these two were the only ones." - "And, what qualifies him for our little, mad band?" - "Well, he does have quite the reputation by now. You know that joke about the convict who whittles himself a replica of a gun out of a bar of soap?" Sho gave his friend an half-curios, half-unbelieving look. "Don't tell me that guy actually pulled _that _one off!" Gerard just grinned in reply. Sho gave off an unbelieving laugh. "No Way! This guy must be colder than a dog's nose." He took the last croissant and said, before stuffing it into his mouth: "When're we seeing this newest wonderboy of yours?" Gerard continued to grin. "As soon as we're done. And _Dude_, I can treat you to something later, you won't starve." Sho threw him an uncomprehending look. "Bwhapf do ya meam? Ah'm jupft humwy!" (_Translation: What do you mean? I'm just hungry!_)

"So this is it?" They were standing in front of what looked like the meanest, measliest chop shop Sho had ever seen. "Yeah…"

The place was basically a rather small garage, with one grimy, slightly rusty car-elevator, and otherwise _stuffed_ with spare parts and tools. In the back of the room, they spotted a flight of winding iron stairs. Saying "I think that must be it", Sho approached it. Gerard followed him. But before they could reach it, a voice called down to them. "You know, normally my customers have the decency to show up at a more appropriate time. So, unless I know you, fuck off. We're closed for today." Gerard stopped in front of the stairs and looked up. "Good morning to you, too, Gray." From the upper floor came a surprised sound, and a raven haired man appeared at the top of the stairs. Gerard thought for a moment to see a flash of blue hair at the man's shoulder, but then it was gone. Next to him, Sho gave off a disgusted sound, because the man was practically naked. Gerard nodded to his blackhead. "Come down here, I got something for ya. And put on some clothes first." he added when Gray already attempted to come down to join the two of them. He mumbled something along the lines of "Yeah, sure, 'course…" and disappeared from their view.

Sho shot his friend an incredulous look. "I have to admit, pal, the guys you keep diggin' up here are getting stranger and stranger. Is he always this…" - "-shameless?" Gerard finished for him. His friend gave him a wry look. "I was actually looking for something socially more acceptable, but yeah, since you put it like that…" Gerard grinned in response. "He's a bit odd, that's right. But I can assure you that it's worth it. I'm still choosing after ability, after all, and not their degree of barely concealed craziness."

They were silent for a moment, listening to the sound of soft voices trailing down the stairs. Sho, who had apparently missed the blue sliver of hair before, gave his partner a questioning look. "Do you think this he has somebody up there." Gerard just threw a quick, casual look in the stair's direction. "No, I don't think so, old friend. I know so." Sho's look turned curious. "Really? How do you know? Did you get a good look?" His friend just gave him a disgusted look.

"What 're you guys talking 'bout now? Anything I should?" The two of them turned around to see Gray coming down the stairs, wearing now a dark pair of jeans and a light blue shirt, even though it wasn't buttoned up. As he came closer to the duo, they could see why: the shirt's buttons had been torn off. Gray seemed to pay mind no mind to it.

"Sup. Didn't know you were already out again, Gerard. They didn't like you in prison?" Gerard did not smile. "The old story, my _friend_. They declared me to be a new, better person when I told them that I hate hate my father." Gray frowned. "But I thought you were an orphan." Sho began to laugh. Gerard shushed him with a wave. "Less joking, more negotiating. Gray, you can probably guess that we're not here to make a formal call. Can we talk somewhere?" Gray gave him a bemused look. "What's wrong with here?" The duo grinned and threw meaningful glances to the top of the stairs. Gray freaked out. "Wha…? How did you know…?"

But then, suddenly, he calmed down. The sudden change in his demeanor was so fast, and so _different_, that it wiped the grins off Gerard's and Sho's faces in split second. "Whatever. Come on, let's get out of here." Gray just stood up and was almost out of the door already, before he shouted to the stairs: "I'm going out for a bit. I'll be back soon." Then he continued without looking back, without waiting for Gerard and Sho.

Half an hour later, the three legally overstrained men were sitting together in the back room of a small, but very exquisite bar. Sho was silently wondering how Gray had discovered this place. Not only was it tucked away in a small back alley, sported _very_ subtle advertising and oozed style and discretion like a high-class gentlemen-club, but it was also _so_ not Gray's style. With his slightly ruffled look and his overly casual and, considering the still cool spring weather, light clothing, he fitted into this place like crow in a swarm of parrots.

"Nice place, huh?" Gray leaned back on his chair, grinning. Sho gave him an inquisitive look. "Yeah… How did you find it in the first place?" Gray's grin widened. "Secret. Now, why did you two majesties come down here in the first place?" Gerard leaned forward. "We're assembling a crew for a job. Now, I can't tell you what it is right now, but if you're interested-" he put a sealed envelope on the table and pushed it over to Gray "-you let us know. It will be difficult, that I can say, but you'll get top money for it." Gray gave him a baffled look. "You won't tell me now? Why?" - "Secret," Sho interjected, grinning as well, before Gerard had any chance of replying. "But if it'll satisfy you, we're probably going to go down into history books or something." Gray, who looked not satisfied at all, just gave him an irritated look. "Geez, that's just so _you_, Gerard. Always stealthy, always secretive, always looking for a chance to gloat." Gerard struggled for a moment to keep his smile. He didn't want to show how much Gray's words had stung him. "Whatever. I'll probably end up coming anyway, so count me in. For now, at least. By the way,…-" Gray interrupted himself for a moment to sip at his drink."-…do I know any of the guys that are going to be in this 'crew' of yours? How big is it going to be, anyway?" Gerard himself took a moment as well to try his drink before replying: "I thought about ten people, probably bit more. And until now, we got Makarov sponsoring us…-" - "The old man? How many of your three wishes have you left?" Gray interjected. Gerard smiled and continued, without losing his rhythm."-… and I asked Natsu and Happy, and they seemed interested." Gray's expression darkened. "Natsu? Happy's okay, he's a good kid, but Natsu? This guy doesn't know the meaning of subtlety. He's a freak." _And that coming from a former exhibitionist-out-of-habit…_ Gerard thought. It used to be a serious problem for Gray. He'd once almost been caught because he had forgotten his shirt at one of his former 'places of employment'. No-one knew where he had developed that rather odd habit, and he never told anyone. But that was how it went down in 'The Business'. Discretion was always vital.

"Why don't you let all the creepy scheming to us, the professional creeps, and buy us another round?" Gerard asked.

Later that afternoon, Sho and Gerard sat in another bar, this one much more tweedy than the one they had left together with Gray a several of hours before, and were reflecting over the situation. "Well, at least this one's _definitely_ mad. This guy would probably have led us in into this bar in his boxers if you wouldn't have said anything. And he was constantly fiddling with his shirt buttons. Did you notice that?" Strangely, Gerard hadn't. That was another strange thing with Gray. Once you got used to him and his rather odd mannerisms, to put it carefully, you were just as surprised as he was when he was suddenly standing around half-naked. "Don't you worry, I vouch for him. He's good." Sho gave him a wry look. "Well, I won't doubt you-" _-Because you already do._ "-but I think we should head back. It's getting late, and I want to spend tomorrow without being completely hooked to coffee. Don't know how I made through today, really." Gerard nodded, looking at nothing. "Right."

Hours later, Gerard shot up in his hotel room, startled by the sounds from the streets below his room's window, awoken from another dream about _her_, about the past. The memory was still as fresh, and now, with maybe just a couple of weeks separating him from _her_, even more painful.

Another sound from his window demanded his attention. He remembered, in a blurry way, that he had opened it because his room had been all stuffy, apparently because he had forgotten to turn down the radiator. Now, with the cold spring air filling his room, he felt a strange chill on his face. He lifted his hand to his cheek. It was wet.

**AN:** _Ooohhh, that was angst. Sorry 'bout that, but I just listened to that kind of music while writing. I know Gray acted a bit OOC in this one, I don't know why I did that. And, as you may already have noticed, I'm building in my opinions about the other FT-pairings here as well. Please don't be mad and comment, I'm not afraid of criticism._


	4. Getting there

**AN: **_Hi, it's me again. Sorry for the long wait, but I had a few things coming up,so…. yeah, who cares. Here is chapter 4. Enjoy._

As soon as he got up this morning, Gerard knew that today was going to be horrible.

He had been awoken by two charwomen, idly chattering in front of his room. Grumbling, he had left his bed to fling open his room's door to snap angrily at them that he was planning a goddamn crime and needed his rest, so could they be so kind as to shut the hell up and… At which point the two charwomen had already been running down the corridor, screeching for help.

Although Gerard felt slightly elevated after this small achievement, he couldn't shake off the bitter knowledge that this day was already beyond every help.

"You look like chewed up and spit out." he was greeted by Sho, who was smiling almost spitefully, when he, much later, came down to join his friend in the hotel's lobby. Gerard just gave him a sarcastic grin. "Natsu was right, you _are_ quite the funny guy, aren't you?" And although some part of him felt a forbidden satisfaction at seeing how Sho's grin fell, it was outweighed by guilt. "Sorry." he apologized quietly, rubbing his temples. He had awoken with an excruciating headache, and now his head was feeling like a bronze bell.

Sho waved it off. "We all have these days… not just the girls." He laughed, but stopped quickly when Gerard threw him a look filled with disgust. "Anyway, which name has your speed-demon of an Info-broker spit out for us today?" The joke was meant to make him laugh, but Gerard only managed a half-hearted, very forced grin. "Wait a minute…" he mumbled as he began to rummage around in the seemingly endless recesses of his coat. "Ah… There we go." He pulled forth a slightly crinkled stack of papers. "Okay. I thought we should be going for an Ironman by now, so I asked Network for some suggestions concerning the matter. I must admit that I don't know very many of them personally, but I had a good look at the info I have here, and I think we could work best with…-" he searched through the stack and pulled from it a computer-written text with a photo pinned to it, "-that one."

Sho carefully observed the small image. The man pictured there had long, black hair, a ridiculous mass of piercings, and glared at him with an expression of complete and utter hate. Sho threw his friend a look, one eyebrow lifted as if to say 'Seriously?'.

"What? This guy has everything we're looking for, experience, connections and whatnot." Gerard replied, irritated by his friend's disbelieving look. Sho gave him a weak grin. "Sorry to break it to you, pal, but the stuff you have here ain't worth shit." Gerard frowned and looked at the paper he was holding. "What do you mean? Everything's there: 'List of Accomplishments', technical skills, recommendations and whatnot. I'm surprised that _I_ never heard of this guy." He looked closer. "Though, now on second look… Oddly _few_ recommendations. But this guy comes over as quite competent to _me_…" Sho let out a laugh. "Now guess why. Or wait, I'll just tell you." He took the paper from Gerard and tore it through, despite his friend's sounds of protest. "Oh, shut up. I know that you and this Network-guy are, like, engaged or something, but _here_, in this case, the usual kind of info won't do." Sho studiously tore the paper into little pieces, which he let fall on the lobby's cheap floor carpets. He ignored the angry glare of the receptionist with studied ease.

"Alright, then," he began "the man you're looking for is a former mercenary. He has served in about half a dozen different private armies and, during the last decade, has been involved in most conflicts involving the deployment of larger quantities of military personnel until a couple of years ago, regardless of whether they were mercs or government-dogs. This guy has seen his share of humanity, and did _not_ like the sight of it. He got into the business a couple of years ago. That's probably why you never heard of him, since you were already enjoying the council's hospitality at that time. Anyway, he might actually work with us, since we're offering a good deal… Although…" Sho's voice trailed off. "What?" Gerard urged him on. Sho pulled a grimace. "Well, he's got a strange approach to the rules in our line of business. Bad manners with clients, if you catch my drift…" Gerard's face contorted into a mask of distaste. He understood all too well. 'Having bad manners' was a figure of speech in 'The Business' and described the infliction of unnecessary violence on people, normally security personnel or bank employees, depending on the area of activity. Gerard himself had hurt people himself , but that was an inevitability in his line of work, and he usually tried to avoid the path of violence. Not so much out of pity, no. He wasn't exactly proud of it, but he had never had himself any illusions: there was no room for pity when you were in 'The Business'.

But still… Unnecessary violence was just _Bad Style_, if not worse. "Ugh, that's just…-" - "I know. But I heard he's got it sorted now. Don't know if it's true, though. Last time I met him, he was just another mean son of a bitch."

There was a short pause before Sho continued to speak. "But I understand why your broker recommended him. He might be crazy, but he knows the stuff. And he can act professional, as long as you keep him away from little orphans and kitties and stuff." Gerard gave his friend a questioning look. "What 'stuff'?" His friend made a vague hand movement. "You know, innocent stuff." Gerard nodded slowly. "So what'd you say? Shop 'im or drop 'im?" he asked. Sho looked at him, surprised. Though he was glad that his friend valued his opinion concerning the matter, he was taken aback by the fact that Gerard was asking him _now_. Until this moment, Gerard had been organizing the whole operation without giving heed to any inputs from Sho's side. That he was not doing so any longer came as an astonishment, to say the least.

"I'd definitely say we should get him. Mad or not, this guy can work like a fiend. He'll be a good asset to the group, too."

Gerard nodded again slowly. "Seems like an interesting person, this…-" he took a look at the photo again, scrutinizing the dark-faced man who glared angrily back at him. "- Gazille Reitfox."

"Sure it's here?"

Six hours later, the duo found themselves walking down a narrow alleyway, lined with white cheap apartment dwellings that loomed high over the asphalt, shadowing the whole street. "Sure I'm sure." Sho grinned, but Gerard remained completely oblivious of his little joke.

The narrow, dark street had widened into an allée, outlined by gigantic oak trees, and the duo had arrived in front of a plain, white bungalow, which was nearly obscured by the rather big and seemingly bedraggled garden surrounding it, which seemed to consist solely of a few bigger trees and lots and lots of ample undergrowth. There was a wide drive-way, paved with thick white slabs of stone with grass and weeds growing between them, like a scar in the thick vegetation surrounding it.

Gerard regarded the scenery with a slight air of displeasure. "This place looks about as alive as an elephant's crap hole. Meaning not at all, but still crawling with shit. Well, let's not make this a waste of time. Sho, you go for the door. He knows you. I don't want to have a cap popped in my ass, just because some psyched-out war-mummy can't control it's itchy, paranoid trigger-finger that kicks in reflexively every time this guy sees a face he hasn't already blown over yet."

They followed the drive-way to the bungalow's door, where Sho, not finding a doorbell, lifted his hand and rapped at the door once.

The door was opened by a huge man, who even loomed far above the two. He was very muscular and had dark skin, with an angry scar close to his left eye. His face and frame were very intimidating, and Sho was thoroughly impressed. Gerard on the other hand was too irritated and broody to react to the man's**)** menacing appearance. He gave Sho a slight shove to remind him why they were here. Startled, Sho collected himself "Hello. We're looking for one Gazille Reitfox." The brute of a man turned his head to the inside of the house and called in an incredibly deep bass over the faint voices that could be heard from behind him: "Hey guys, shut up a moment, will ya? Is Gazille in?" He listened for a moment to someone replying, but it was too faint for Gerard or Sho to catch it.

The big guy turned back to them again. "Seems you're lucky. Come in, I'll get him."

Once inside, Gerard and Sho instinctively checked the room's layout: there was no entrance hall of any sort, the front door opened directly to a spacious living room, walls lined with tall book-shelves, _crammed_ with books of any size and form. At the far side of the room, a french window revealed a backyard, similarly big and unkempt__as the plant live at the front. To their right was an opening in the wall, through which a big kitchenette was visible.

First after they had made themselves a picture__of their surroundings, Gerard and Sho paid any attention to the other occupants of the room: except the brutish-looking man standing behind them, there was a very small, almost frail young woman sitting on a couch, holding huge book in her lap. She had shoulder long, blue hair, tamed by a white bandana, was wearing a pair of small reading glasses, and seemed completely engrossed in the book she was holding, and had taken no notice of the strange duo entering the room. Across her stood another man, who had just exited the kitchenette, and was now scrutinizing the two suspiciously. He was of average height, not especially well-built, but athletic, with an attractive, though not overly interesting, face. His hair was black, and held in the most bizarre style Gerard and Sho had ever seen. _(I'm not going to describe it now, but I think everyone who reads this will know that I'm talking about Droy.)_

"Who're these two?" he asked the huge man behind them. Gerard and Sho could almost _feel_ the big guy's shrug behind them. "They say they want to speak with Gazille. Where is he, anyway?"

The man with the weird hairstyle frowned, slightly irritated. "I don't _know_, I was busy in the kitchen… Hey, Levy. Levy! _Levy!_" he tried to gain the blue-heads attention. The startled young woman called Levy winced and blinked, having obvious trouble to find her way back into reality. "Wha-what's up? Who're those two?" The black haired man waved her off. "Not important right now. Where's Gazille?" The bluenette collected herself before answering. "I think he said he would be in the forge together with Jet…" - "Perfect. Lily, you know the way." The big man called Lily just simply nodded and lead Gerard and Sho through a door down a long staircase of concrete. He was silent while he did so.

After some time, the three arrived in a huge underground hall, full of long tables overladen with all kinds of metallic glinting pieces, odds and ends, illuminated brightly by the cold light of several ceiling lights. The air was filled with a high, screeching noise, caused by a tall man standing with their back to them, operating what seemed to be a huge automatic metal saw. He was not wearing any protective clothing, but instead a wide, baggy pair of trousers and a jeans jacket with torn-off sleeves. There were letters drawn at it's back in a dark color. _Dragons Eat Metal_.

The man in the jeans jacket seemed to take no notice of the newcomers, but among the rows of tables a head, framed by messy, flaming red hair, appeared. The belonging body showed itself soon after as its owner stood up from behind the table. He shouted something to the tall man at the metal saw, but his voice was drowned in the noise it created. Seeing this, the redhead picked up a screwdriver from the table in front of him, and without further ado, threw it at the man operating the saw. It hit him in the shoulder.

The noise stopped almost immediately. "_What?_" he snapped as turned around, the irritation in his voice evident , and presented himself for Sho and Gerard for the first time.

Gazille Reitfox was, that they saw at first glance, someone who preferred to be taken seriously . With a piercing-graveyard of a face, strangely angular and wiry muscles, and a clothing-choice that oozed street, his whole person looked like a statement of 'Not To Be Fucked With'. "And who're these two office-clowns?"

Gerard frowned with annoyance, but before he could snap back an insult at the tall man, Sho jumped in, in a desperate attempt to stop the mood from tipping. "Hey, Gazille. Remember me? Sho? Last year in Sarnath?" he added when Gazille's frown did not change. Finally a spark of recollection flashed in his eyes. "Oh, right. The diamond job. What was your whole part in that thing again? Because people wondered what you were actually doing all this time." Sho, struggling to keep his eyebrow from twitching, pressed forth something that looked like a smile someone had found under a stone. "I- It was my… I mean, I organized it…-" - "Yeah, okay. Whatever. Jet, let's start cleaning up here."

The redhead, Jet, as Gazille had called him, opened his mouth to protest, but Gazille cut him off. "_Please._" His voice had gained a more-than-subtle tint of menace.

But instead of leading the others upstairs, he just went back to the working table he had just been standing at and began to collect little scraps and bits of of metal that had scattered around his working his workspace. Without turning around to them, he said: "I can already guess that you're here to talk about some job or whatever. I ain't got all day, so talk."

Sho and Gerard exchanged a quick look. Then Gerard stepped forward. "We're gathering a team. And yes, it's for a job, as you so cleverly deduced." He pulled out the envelope, containing the usual: a plane ticket, a business card, and the most necessary of informations. Gazille accepted it and tore it open at once. He discarded the ticket and business card quickly, just giving off a quiet "Hmph" when he read Makarov's name. After skimming through the scarce information (Gerard had intentionally left it that way. He had found out from earlier experience that it was much more likely to recruit a fellow-in-crime for a job if he just threw them so much of a bait. Just enough to make their mouths water, as he liked to say.) he threw the whole stack carelessly at the table behind him. "Nice try, pretty boy, but if you take me for some brat you can bait like a kitten, you got another one comin'. Tell me what this thing is about _right now_, and I won't slug you for having the cheek to come in here and trying to trick me into some petty lowlife-get-together." With that he folded his arms and glowered at the pair, an air of both expectancy and irritation around him.

The feeling was somewhat mutual, since Gerard had to keep his jaw from working tensely with annoyance. This upstart-thug dared to give him lip! With a few deep breaths, he tried to regain his cool. Very well, if that loudmouth decided to get cheeky on him, there would be no helping it. Of course, sooner or later he would have to give Gazille a good talking-to, since he had challenged him that openly, but he preferred to do so in a place where he could influence the outcome of this in a more wholesome manner. For now, he would comply.

"Okay okay, no need to get all twitchy. Look, it's like this…"

Barely half an hour, after being interrupted by Gazille for god knew how many times, Gerard let out relieved sigh. Gazille, he knew now, was everything but a good listener. During his tale, he had more than once regretted not taking his chances and just taking a swing at Gazille's face. Sure, Gazille was a big guy, and probably steeled by his army-time, but Gerard knew quite a bit about fighting dirty, and with the element of surprise on his side, he guessed the odds would probably turn out in his favor. But, of course, there was still that black-skinned bulk of a man, Lily, nearby, and though he would trust Sho to have his back at any time, he doubted it would do him any good in this situation. Sho's strengths laid more in his brain than his brawn, anyway.

At this point, Gazille's voice brought him back to reality. "So, as far as I understand it, you're still looking for, what, a preacher-man and one or two Mr Smiths?" - "Yeah, one or two. Maybe one more guy, depending on the situation, but we're not sure yet." Sho had taken over Gerard's place in the conversation.

Gazille looked deep in thought. "O-kay… Count me in. I'll be there, in Magnolia, in two weeks. But-" he added, as an afterthought. "-I've got one condition." Gerard's brows furrowed in annoyance, when he heard this. This guy started to be more troublesome than useful! Irritated, he snapped: "You know, I know at least five guys who could do this thing just as good as you could. If not better! We don't _have_ to-" - "I don't mean it like that!" Gerard stopped, surprised. "Well, what is it you want, then?" Gazille scowled, looked away and mumbled something. He looked almost a little embarrassed. "Sorry? You said you had a condition, but I can't help you if you don't talk to me. So talk." Gerard said mockingly.

Gazile's scowl deepened. "I said I want you to add two tickets." Next to Gerard, Sho gave off a sound of surprise. Gerard, too, was more surprised than he wanted to admit. That was indeed an usual request. "What? Why that? Do you want to bring someone along?" Gazille nodded. "Yeah. You said you still needed two Mr Smiths. I have them." Gerard understood immediately. "What, the redhead and the guy with the weird hairstyle? You want me to bring them in? They don't have a reputation or anything. Who guarantees me that they're up to it?" Gazille's scowl deepened even more. "I do. Is that enough for you?" His voice had gained that hint of menace again, but he seemed uneasy for some reason. Gerard sensed that this was more than a friend simply doing some other friends a favor and giving them an opportunety to play with the big boys. There was a history behind this. "Okay, but are you sure? Because if they'll fuck up, it's your ass that I will be making grass out of, as they say." Gazille just waved it off. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. So you'll accept them, I take it?" Gerard just pulled two more tickets out of his coat and turned around, wordlessly. "Okay, they're in. Other than me and my friend, who're out of here now, seeing as everything's been said. Come on, Sho."

And with that, they left.

**AN:**_ So, that was that. One more thing (__**IMPORTANT**__): since I haven't been getting any feedback on Chapter 3, it kinda feels like I'm writing without anyone bothering to read whatever I'm writing. So, unless there won't be any feedback this time, I will assume that no-one's been reading this, and will put the story on hold._


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